


The Ulterior Motive of Symbiosis

by kimbleefucker (hihowareya)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihowareya/pseuds/kimbleefucker
Summary: "If you would fuck me as savagely as you kill Ishvalans, maybe we could get somewhere."





	The Ulterior Motive of Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

> similarly to Symbiosis, this is in the same vein but further down the line. consider it a sequel perhaps? things are no longer as mutually beneficial.
> 
> also like Symbiosis this was written on my phone and bot edited so, sorry for anything autocorrect missed or messed up.

Roy laid down his hand of cards on the make shift table and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Looks like I win again."

Hawkeye set her cards down silently and Hughes dropped his to the table as well. "Damn it Roy, at this rate you're gonna be the only one here with any smokes at all, I dont even know how you manage to use em all." He gathered the winnings (4 cigarettes) and passed them off to his friend, who tucked them away in his cigarette case. He wouldn't say of course that they weren't all for him. Speaking of which, he did have somewhere to be...

"I think I'll turn in for the night, I'm feeling pretty exhausted." He faked a yawn and stood up.

"Already? But it's barely dusk, you can go another round can't you?" Hughes tried to bargain with him, not knowing where he was going or what he was planning, but still wanting his best friend to be in kind company for as long as possible. Roy wished he could stay.

"Sorry, I really don't think I could. We have a big mission tomorrow, they're sending all the state alchemists out to try one big attack, see if they can't end this in one go." Roy dreaded the idea. Another man at the table scoffed.

"Tell em to just send Kimblee then, he could take out the whole damn country on his own and he'd have a great time doin it too. Somethins not right with that guy." He shook his head and lit his last cigarette. Roy almost wanted to agree with him.

"We'll see. Have a good night." He gave a casual salute and pulled his beige overcoat over his uniform and walked in the direction of his tent. Once he was sure he was out of eyesight and not being followed, he made a duck into an alley and emerged in the other unit's camp, the one lead by Kimblee. His tent being as far from everyone else's as could be allowed. Partially by his own request, partially by the request of others.

He rapped on the fabric a bit, then pulled it open to step in "You here?" He asked, but it was empty. It was unlike Kimblee to be late, to anything in general, but especially to their meetings. He figured he might as well wait for him. If Roy knew Kimblee as well as he thought he did, he probably didn't want to know what he was doing on his own. He was pulled from his thoughts by the tent flap opening behind him, and his host casually stepping in.

"Well now, breaking and entering are we? How rude." Kimblee's tone was teasing and his expression casual. He closed the flap behind him and made sure to clasp the latch, which felt like a padlock to the other occupant. "Sorry I'm late, I had another very important meeting, it would seem I'm terribly popular today." His long hands slid into his pockets and he looked at Roy expectantly.

"The same kind of meeting that you and I have?" He felt nauseated at the idea of Kimblee acting this way with anyone else, that maybe he wasn't the only one. Not surprised however. Kimblee laughed lowly.

"Nothing of the sort. Our lovely superiors simply wanted to give me a gift for my efforts, and a weapon all the same. We'll see how it goes tomorrow." He slowly approached the Flame alchemist and removed a hand from his pocket to press his index finger to Roy's forehead. Kimblee was an inch or so shorter than Roy but in this moment Roy felt like he was towering over him and almost recoiled from the cool touch of his finger against him. "Were you feeling jealous? Possessive maybe? Don't worry, you're the only one I spend my time with this way." The way his eyes narrowed reminded Roy of the time he'd seen a feral cat eat a dead mouse outside of his parents house; Kimblee's eyes were the same as the hungry feline's.

"I don't care who or what you do in your spare time." It was a half lie. Roy started to remove his overcoat and military issued jacket. "Let's just make this quick." Kimblee scoffed, and his expression neutralized.

"You act like you don't want this- if there are things you'd rather be doing, the door is over there." He removed his finger from Roy's forehead and pointed to the exit of the tent instead. "You won't get lost, I'm sure." This time it was Roy's turn to scoff.

"What I want to do and need to do are different. Just stop wasting time." Mustang felt like Kimblee appreciated his harshness or demanding tone sometimes, but he also knew Kimblee wasn't a man of empty threats; at least twice he had outright refused to partake because of something Roy had said, and sent him out with nothing but a bad attitude. He studied Kimblee's face to see if he'd crossed the line, and was relieved when Kimblee's blank expression turned to smile again, though there was nothing reassuring about his smile ever.

"Alright, alright. You have no patience." Kimblee took a step towards Roy again and there was only a few inches between them now, as he elegantly sunk down to kneel in front of him. Roy was a little surprised, normally Kimblee would immediately tell him to fuck him and wantonly lay on his back until Roy could muster up the strength and arousal to do so. If he was planning to help him get there, he must really be in a good mood. He watched as pale fingers undid his pants, working around the belt and layers of the Amestrian uniform, and pulled him free, not even half hard. "You never seem excited when you come here." Kimblee told him matter of factly. His cool hand snaked around Roy and lightly started to stroke him, and Roy could feel Kimblee's warm breath on him as well; it helped.

"I don't think I could be as excited as you get. About anything here." Roy exhaled heavily and his hand found itself against Kimblee's head, feeling his hair. It was soft, but Roy could feel the sand in it, and knew his must feel the same. He was reluctant to, but pushed the other alchemist towards him, indicating he wanted something more.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Kimblee asked him, and Roy knew he would get the answer anyway. Kimblee always gave him answers, whether he liked them or not. "I think you just like to feel sorry for yourself- you care less about what you're doing here, and more about how you can spin it to benefit your image." Before Roy could protest this, he felt Kimblee lick a long stripe up his length and it twitched to life, quickly hardening under the other man's affections. Kimblee was, surprisingly, never rough with him. Not physically anyway. His touch was always surprisingly soft, and careful. He let his voice be his weapon and his hostility and temper could infect his words, scathing and harsh.

Roy gasped at the sudden change from the gentle touch of Kimblee's cool hands to the hasty and hot feeling of his breath and tongue against him. "You just want pity." He stopped to say, then want back to the task at hand, finally taking the other man into his mouth fully.

"You... you're wrong..." Roy could barely argue, his mind was clouded with pleasure instead. "I just... this isnt what I..." He couldn't think properly, speak properly. He was ready to go, but Kimblee didn't stop, which was much like how he was with everything he did; unwavering despite the protests of others. Roy finally tugged on Kimblee's hair, grasping his long ponytail firmly. "S-stop... or you won't get to enjoy this." Kimblee pulled off him but a smirk slowly spread on his face.

"Are you implying I'm not enjoying it already?" He should have expected that.

"You know what I mean. You need to get ready." Roy was stripping the rest of his uniform off now, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Kimblee stood up and rummaged through a box near the bedroll and leaned back with his hands on his hips.

"Hmm, seems I'm all out. Did you bring any? Or will we have to do it without? I'll live if we do." Kimblee gave Roy a questioning glance and it took him a moment to realize he was referring to any sort of lubricant. He picked up his pants from the ground and dug through the pockets, relieved when he found the lotion he had put in there earlier, not even for this very reason.

"You're in luck." He announced as he tossed it to Kimblee, who was peeling off the last of his own uniform. Of course, unsurprisingly, he was already hard. "And I almost didn't bring it."

"I could have managed without, what do you take me for?" His question was almost antagonizing. He sunk back down on the bed roll and whistled for Roy to join him, as if he was calling a dog. He handed the bottle back to Roy. "Do it for me." And his tone held unquestionable authority. Roy admittedly liked to watch Kimblee prepare himself, but he wasn't entirely opposed to doing it if he was told to. He spread the viscous liquid over his fingers and nudged the equal officer's legs apart. He felt self conscious under Kimblee's steady gaze, as if he was being judged on his ability to finger another man. His sharp blue eyes felt like daggers in Roy's skull.

"Do you have to stare at me like that?" He asked, his slicked fingers hovering close.

"Does it bother you? Do _I_ bother you?" Kimblee asked him, but he knew the answer already. He just liked to see what he could drag out of Mustang.

"I just don't need judgement from someone like you." Taking a cue from Kimblee's actions earlier, Roy pushed a finger inside him before he could retort, earning him a breathy exhale from the other alchemist instead. He hesitantly pushed in and out before adding a second, and hastily a third. "Is that alright?" He asked.

"Someone like me? What, ah, does that mean?" Of course, Kimblee hyperfocused on the statement Roy didn't need his response on, and ignored the question he did. "Who am I to you, that makes this... this so bad?" His tone was smug but his voice shook. Roy figured he wouldn't have an answer to his question until he answered this one.

"You... you're a psychopath, you enjoy this, _you enjoy this_... the killing, the hurt, the blood, you don't see anything wrong with it. You don't ever wish you could go home. You don't ever want it to end. You-" Roy had to bite his lip to keep himself from rambling, realizing he had begun moving his hand much more roughly than he intended. "You're just..."

"Easy major, you're going to make me blush..." Of course that didn't mean anything, there was already a notable flush on Kimblee's pale face. When Roy met his gaze again, he found it less sharp, less calculating. His eyes were glossy and unfocused, and he figured that was answer enough. He removed his fingers and heard Solf gasp, and started to grab at the lotion to add a little more to himself when Kimblee grabbed his wrist clumsily.

"Don't... I still want a little friction at least, you'll take all the pleasure out of it." Roy knew that Kimblee wished he'd be rougher with him, hurt him more. There were times he would demand Roy take out his anger and frustration on him, and Roy would comply, roughly pulling his hair or grabbing him too tight. And he would sob out "sorry"s that Kimblee never asked for, never wanted. When he was done he never actually felt better, just more tired. He could sleep better, but only from exhaustion.

He reluctantly accepted this and dropped the bottle, lining himself up as Kimblee fell back on the bedroll, his pale arms splayed above his head. When he laid like this, the hollow of his stomach between his ribs and hips made Roy feel ill. Did he refuse to eat? Did he have some uncaught disease? His form was so lanky that he-

"Are you going to fuck me, or aren't you?" He was pulled from his thoughts suddenly. It sounded unnatural, Kimblee swearing. Even here he seemed determined to uphold his image, of a kind, gentlemanly presence. But Roy knew the truth, who he really was.

He reached out and took hold of Kimblee's hips, the bones of them pushed out enough for him to grasp, and slowly sunk into him, without any hesitancy until he felt their skin touch. Kimblee's tent being so far from the others meant that it was unlikely anyone would hear them, could hear them, but still he made Roy work to hear him croon. Kimblee rolled his hips as if to urge Roy to move. Even with preparation, and what little was left of any lubricant, he was still tight and hot and Roy was embarrassed to say that he liked the feeling.

His grip on Kimblee's hips tightening, Roy unsheathed himself slightly then pushed back in, his pace slow but even. Kimblee was patient with him, but not always, and it never lasted too long. Roy worked himself up into a faster and harder pace, grunting and closing his eyes. He didnt want to see what he was doing, who he was doing. He pretended it was someone else, that he was back home, that he'd found someone who loved him, who cared for him, who reassured him that this war wasn't his doing and he wasn't to blame- that the orders he followed weren't his own will. It almost worked until Kimblee spoke at him again, flatly.

"If you would fuck me as savagely as you kill Ishvalans, maybe we could get somewhere." One of his hands languidly stroked his cock now, as if Roy fucking him wasn't doing enough for him. Roy knocked his hand away.

"Shut up. Just... don't talk..." He hated knowing it, seeing it. His actions and their consequences. He wanted this to be over, even though he came asking for it. He started thrusting rougher, faster.

"I'm sorry, am I, ah, ruining your fantasy? Would you like me to pretend to be s-someone else?" Kimblee's voice trembled only slightly from the harsher fucking, and Roy could hear him panting slightly. "T-thats your problem, you... you... turn away from reality. You can't accept what's real: that we're here, what we're doing. Y-you hide... and when reality knocks on your door, you, ah... ah, you put up your walls, walls of self deprecation and victimization... you can't-" Kimblee's speech was broken by Roy's hand across his face, the slap resounded in the small tent and despite how much he wanted to, Roy didn't let up. He moved faster and harder, and Kimblee's hand gingerly touched the reddening spot on his cheek, his expression one of mixed emotion: surprise, pleasure, confusion- he didn't know what to feel, and Roy watched his face accept pleasure as the winning bet and he moaned lowly as Roy pushed into him at an especially enjoyable angle. "Yes... like that..." he demanded.

"When I said shut up... I meant it." Roy's voice was a low growl but he was determined to see this through to the end. He splayed one hand on the ground, only just past Kimblee's hip so it knocked against Roy's wrist with every thrust. His other went to grab at the other man's cock, tight enough to give him friction, but loose enough that he didn't have to move his hand, his hips knocking against him pushed him against Roy's palm over and over again.

It didn't take long after that, Kimblee's back arched sharply and the hot, wet release coated his stomach and Roy's hand, and he made a noise that made Roy think he might cry, but it was enough to get Roy there himself and he groaned his release into the other man. He felt dizzy and overheated and his hand stung from the impact to Kimblee's face. After a few minutes he regained his composure and pulled out, his breathing returned to normal and he haphazardly looked for his clothes on the ground. It was getting dark out, and there was only enough light in the tent for him to see, just enough.

"I wish you would start out that enthusiastically, then I wouldn't have to lay into you like that. But you should probably hear it anyway." Kimblee reached for a handkerchief to clean the semen off his stomach, and grabbed for his pants on the floor. He pulled them on, his boots and his undershirt and seemed to consider his jacket, and then dropped it to the ground again. "Do you have them?"

Roy turned to look at him, holding out his tattooed palm expectantly. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out his winnings from earlier, handing 2 of the 4 cigarettes to Kimblee, who followed him outside to enjoy one. They smoked together quietly. When it was dark, Roy decided to leave. He couldn't tell if he felt better or worse.

"Hey." He looked at Kimblee, unable to make eye contact. "Do you really think it's true? The things you said?" Kimblee almost barked a laugh.

"Have I ever been one to lie?" He dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. "You speak your self pity so dogmatically, you never consider the views of others. You think that the world is black and white, you're unable to think dialectically." Roy almost wished he'd never asked, unleashing Kimblee's desire for berating him. Or what he thought was berating. "You might start to feel better if you could see the world from others perspectives." Kimblee's hands found his pockets again and he shrugged. "But what do I know? I'm sure you don't need advice from _someone like me_."

The way he said those words held enough venom that Roy thought he may have actually offended Kimblee by saying them. It was silent for a while, then Kimblee spoke. "Are you excited? For tomorrow."

"Hardly. I just want to go home." Kimblee ignored him. Why did he even ask?

"I'm looking forward to it, you seem to think that I enjoy killing- that taking someones life is what makes me glad to be here. It's just a byproduct." He admired the tattoos on his palms. "I just want to use my alchemy to its fullest extent, to feel the power that I've worked so hard to create, to truly see what I can do and the extent of my own abilities. Don't you feel like that too? Don't you enjoy seeing the fruition of your efforts?" Roy swallowed hard.

"You're going to end up in jail." He stated bluntly. This time, Kimblee did laugh.

"If I do, will you come see me? I'd appreciate conjugal visits." Roy couldn't tell if he was joking.

"You're insane. I'm not marrying you. I don't think anyone would."

"Well that's not very nice. I'm sure there's someone out there who would." Roy doubted it, but he didn't say it. The next day, after Solf had successfully destroyed the remainder of the Ishvalan rebellion with some extreme advancement of his power, he killed 5 superior officers, and was sentenced to life in prison. Roy never did visit him.


End file.
